Turns out my foot wasn't nearly as bad as it had looked with blood caked to it. Once cleaned, I realized it was just a small puncture where the glass had pinched my skin. But man did it hurt to walk on.

So, for a week, I was basically bed-ridden. Dillon would come by often and we'd watch movies or play video games. Some nights my mom and I would order in pizza and have movie marathons on the couch. Anyone else, though, I'd avoided completely for one simple reason:

Hygiene.

I couldn't bathe because I couldn't walk, and my mom didn't have the upper body strength to hoist me up and into the bathtub. So, I just sat around rotting. Mom would sponge bathe me every day, but that can only do so much.

By the time my stitches healed and I was given permission to continue on, I nearly kissed my doctor. The laugh that had left my lips in that moment was something resembling a possessed sheep. Not pretty, but I didn't care. I was free.

Apparently, because I did no walking during the first week of my injury, the wound healed quicker. Not like I had a choice. I literally couldn't walk. I guess that turned out to be a blessing though.

Now that I'm healed up, I'm ready for some action. I've been going stir crazy in this place and am dying to get out into the world again. Giving Lynn a call, I silently pray she's not too pissed with me about not calling her over the past week.

"Yo," she answers, and I can hear the strain in her voice like she's struggling with something.

"Hey." I wait for her to hang up on me, but when she doesn't, I continue. "You busy?"

"Nope, not really." She huffs as something shatters in the background. "What's up?"

"Thought we could hang out."

That's when the phone goes quiet. I'm not sure what she's thinking really. Maybe she's more irritated with me than I assumed, or maybe she's distracted. There's no way to know, so I just wait.

"Yeah," she says slowly—unsure. "Okay. I suppose we could."

"You suppose?" I question, curiosity mingling with the humor in my voice.

"Well, you haven't called in over a week," she explains. "And after treating me like dirt at the haunted house, I assumed you never would."

"Treated you like dirt?" I'm confused. Had I actually treated her any differently from the rest of the group?

"You are actually so stupid," she groans, and I hear something slam against the ground on her end of the line.

"Um... okay?"

"Just saying," she tells me flippantly. "If you couldn't see how rude you were to me, then there's something seriously wrong."

I sigh because I think I know where she's going with this. Honestly, I am aware of my actions, but I had a good reason for acting the way I did.

"Can we talk about this in person?"

"Sure," she answers almost begrudgingly.

"Where do you wanna meet?"

"My house," she responds instantly. "You're gonna help me clean the attic."

I start to argue but she's already hung up. With a groan of mild frustration, I throw on a pair of jeans and a baby-blue T-shirt and lock up the house behind me.

Lynn must hear me pull up because I can see her open the front door for me as I make my way toward her house. But instead of waiting for me like a normal person would, she simply pivots on her heels and takes the stairs to the second floor.

With a sigh, I shut the door behind me, wondering what I've gotten myself into. Lynn's never been the petty type. She speaks her mind, but never in a way that makes it seem as if she's looking for drama. Which tells me that something is off with her today. She's not typically so cold. Yes, edgy and direct, but never cold.

Following her upstairs, I see her feet disappear into a hole in the ceiling that leads to the attic. Grabbing ahold of the attached ladder, I begin the climb. It's not easy. When you don't have a knee on one leg it can be a bit of a challenge. I'm basically dragging myself up the ladder with just my arms and let me tell you, it's exhausting.

Reaching the top, I haul myself out of the hole and lie panting on the wood floor, eyes closed, while I listen to Lynn shuffle around the room. I expect her to tease me or throw some offensive words at me about being lazy or dramatic. Instead, she doesn't say anything at all. Her silence has me concerned, so I peak an eye open only to find her lounging on a fluffy couch watching me in amusement.

Okay, so maybe she's not pissed.

Grunting my way into standing, I join her on the couch, releasing a pent-up breath the moment my butt hits the cushion.

"You okay?" I ask, feeling her eyes on me. I've already dropped my head against the back of the couch and am staring up at the angled ceilings.

"Fine," she answers cheerfully. "Kinda." Then she shifts toward me. "Actually, I'm horribly annoyed with you, but other than that, I'm peachy."

"I gathered that you're annoyed," I say, ignoring the rest of her statement. "Want to explain why?"

"Yeah, sure," she smiles. "As soon as you explain why you felt the need to treat me like garbage the night we went to the haunted house."

I drag a hand down my face, all levels of regret surfacing as I piece together the perfect explanation. But, there is no perfect explanation that doesn't require the absolute truth, and I'm not ready for that yet. So, I go for a different truth.

"I can't."

Her face drops in astonishment. "Really? You can't tell me why you were so rude?"

"I honestly didn't realize I was being so rude to you and I'm sorry for that, but I can't tell you why I was acting the way I was. At least not yet," I tell her and then quickly add. "But the moment I figure things out, you'll be the first to know."

She groans, throwing herself back on the couch and turning her eyes upward toward the rafters. "Fine."

Well, that was easy.

"Time to help me clean then," she says, tilting her head in my direction and offering me a wink.

Lifting myself off the couch, I glance around the room and realize that it's really not that bad in here. There are quite a few pieces of furniture, but not that many boxes.

"What's the plan?"

"Well," she says, rubbing her hands together in anxious excitement. "I'm turning this room into my hangout room. I'm pushing everything out of the way so we can have a company come and install a few skylights. My parents even okay'd me having air conditioning put in. Once it's all arranged to perfection, this room is going to be epic."

I nod slowly, biting on my lip as I survey the area. "Cool."

"Your task," she says, stabbing her finger into my chest. "Is to help me move the heavier stuff. Cabinets and tables." Then she grins proudly, her obvious joy a stark contrast to the dread hanging off my face.

"Fine," I mumble. "Let's do this."

———

By the time we're done, I'm famished. It's probably two o'clock and I haven't had anything to eat all day. When I tell Lynn this, her eyes widen in horror.

"How are you still alive?" she asks as she makes her way to the ladder. "I'll grab us something to eat. You just chill."

Ten minutes later, we're both nibbling on sandwiches in silence. The silence wouldn't be so bad but I can tell that Lynn's mulling something over and I'm just waiting for her to break the stillness with her thoughts.

"Are you still having pain in your missing leg?" she wonders aloud, glancing at my prosthesis as she takes a bite.

"Not much," I tell her. "If I do, it's not real bad anymore."

"That's good."

That wasn't the question she intended to ask me. I can tell because she continues to shoot quick side glances at me and eating too quickly. She's uncomfortable for some reason and I'm about ready to tell her to just let it out when she speaks.

"Are you happy?"

The question catches me off guard. Sure, I'd expected something deep, but maybe not that personal. Happiness is hard to grasp these days. I'm content, I've realized that. But happy? I'm not sure.

"I don't know," I tell her eventually, taking my last bite and leaning back into the softness of the couch. "Not like I used to be. There's not that sense of exhilarating freedom anymore. I feel pretty typical. My life is no longer special. I just go from one day to the next without anything to really look forward to."

Lynn watches me for a moment, her eyes squinted in sympathy as she processes my words. A tight smile lifts her lips and I find myself fascinated by the perfect symmetry of her face. When I smile, one side lifts just a hair higher than the other, but Lynn's lips are perfect.

The thought startles me and when I realize I've actually been staring at her mouth, my eyes flee upward to find her watching me. I want to facepalm because this moment just feels so cliche and stupid. It's that moment when the air changes and the guy shifts forward to test the girl's reaction to his nearness. But that's not going to happen. I can't let that happen. Not yet.

Lynn's eyes crinkle in the corner as she smiles back at me. I know she caught me staring, but she doesn't mention anything about it. Instead, she twists herself around in her seat and pulls her legs to her chest.

"I want to change that," she says softly, speaking into her knees where she has her chin rested.

"Change what?"

She cocks her head to the side, resting her left ear on her knees instead as she gazes over at me.

"I'd like to help bring a little light back into your life. Spice things up a bit and make it so that you actually look forward to tomorrow."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" I ask, curious.

Her face softens, lips tilted into a lazy grin as she lets her eyes slip past me and toward the window at the end of the room.

"I'm not sure yet."

We spend the rest of the day arranging the room to perfection and don't realize that a storm has rolled in until an earth-cracking roar of thunder vibrates the floors. It's then that we both stop, glancing toward the small window at the front of the room. It doesn't offer much light anyway, but now, the light that it did offer is completely shrouded by black clouds and sheets of rain.

"Guess you're stuck here for a bit," Lynn jokes, flopping down onto the couch.

She's taking up the entire thing, but I don't care. I'm too tired to be bothered with getting her to scooch, so I simply lift her legs and take a seat before placing her legs over my lap.

"Oooo, rub while you're at it," she says, wiggling her toes as she closes her eyes like she actually expects me to start massaging her toes.

"I know some people have weird feet fetishes," I say, lifting my hands in the air and eyeing her toes as if they're going to pop off her feet and start attacking me. "But, I literally find them to be disgusting."

"How disgusting?" Lynn taunts as she slowly lifts her foot up and sways it toward my face.

"Like, I won't hesitate to karate chop your entire foot off if you move those things another inch toward my face." I've got my hands up, shielding myself from her approaching toes when she suddenly drops her leg back into my lap—forcing a pained grunt from me—and throws her head back in laughter.

"I like you," she chuckles, clearing meaning it in a playful way.

"I suppose I sorta like you too," I say, shoving her legs off my lap and lifting my right leg up and shoving my foot against her thigh so that she's crushed into the very furthest corner of the couch. She giggles and groans dramatically as I keep digging and digging until she's begging me to stop. With a playful sigh, I release her and plunk my foot into her lap.

"You asking for a massage too?" she asks, eyeing my foot skeptically.

"Only if you want to be kicked in the face."

"Wow," she says, nodding with her chin wrinkled in thought. "You really do hate feet. What's the story behind that? Did someone assault you with their feet as a child? Or maybe they painted little clowns onto their toes. Or, did you have a close encounter with some hairy toes once—like werewolf hairy. Honestly, that'd freak me out too."

"Ha ha!" I fake laugh, even though I'm carrying a genuine smile. "Where the heck did your brain come from?"

"Good question," she says, contemplating the answer. "I'll have to ask my parents." Her eyes squint at me as she thinks. "Do they harvest brains? Maybe my parents just plucked mine from a brain field and popped it into my body."

"I'm gonna stop asking you questions now," I laugh. "Because the more I ask, the weirder you get."

"Hmm, that's what my psychotherapist says too."

I laugh for real now. "You're a dork."

"I was once told that a dork was an infected hair on an elephant's butt," she tells me, dead serious. "Is that true?"

"I'm no dictionary," I say with a shrug. "How would I know?"

"Do you make a habit of using words you don't know?"

"Affirmative," I tell her, crossing my arms over my chest. "That means 'yes', right?"

The sound of her laughter dances around the muggy room, imitating the soft droplets of water as they patter against the window. The storm has let up now, the sun struggling to squeeze itself through the clouds. I bet there's probably a rainbow blooming to life out there right now, but I'm too comfortable to bother standing to investigate.

Glancing back at Lynn, I find her with her head resting against the back of the couch where it dangles slightly to the side. Her mouth is agape, soft breathing whispering between her lips. For some reason, I can't stop watching her. I know she's beautiful, but I've done everything in my power to resist letting myself want her. It still doesn't feel fair.

I haven't talked to Penny since she left for the road trip, and I've realized that I don't miss her at all. I'm sorry about her life and the things she's had to deal with growing up, but that's no excuse for her behavior. Yes, she's my friend and I'll always defend her against people like her parents, but I want nothing more from her. Our quick relationship was a mistake. A joke. A regret I wish I didn't have.

I let myself grow absorbed in the gentle rising and falling of Lynn's chest—so steady and reliable, just like her friendship to me. And the way her silky hair falls across her shoulders in brilliant blue slopes tempts me to reach out and slide my fingers along the strands. I hate that I never realized it sooner, but she's everything I want in a girl. She's kind and compassionate, but also genuine and bold. She's almost too confident—borderline arrogant—but somehow manages to carry that self-assurance with an air of humility. It's inspiring.

As the sun starts to dip lower in the sky, I pull myself off the couch. Lynn shifts with my movement but doesn't wake up. Standing, I go and kneel beside her, trailing my fingers over her arm in hopes of tickling her awake. It doesn't work. Instead, I just become entranced with how soft her skin feels beneath my calloused fingers. I jolt bad quickly when I realize what I'm doing. I feel like a moron. She's sleeping and I'm over here sliding my fingers over her skin like a complete creep. Talk about stalker.

An icy wave of humiliation washes through me and I quickly stand. Seems touch isn't enough to wake her, and since I'm not in the mood to be cruel, I decide not to terrify her awake by using the Air Horn app on my phone—though, that would be incredibly fun. Instead, I just slip slowly out of the attic, nearly tumbling to the ground when my foot misses one of the rungs in the ladder.

Glad that nobody was home to witness my fumble, I sneak out of the house and slap through puddles all the way to my car. And, as I start up the engine, I let my thoughts wander to certain possibilities. One in particular...

If I gave Lynn a chance, would I be setting her up for heartbreak?

---

Random question: what are your FAVORITE cliches? Like, even if you know they're dumb, you can't help but love them. List them here!

TEASER FOR NEXT CHAPTER: Jamie and Lynn get a little one-on-one pool time. There will be teasing and heartfelt chitchat and lots of flirting. :D